


Evening Star

by Vesperata



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family, Love, Retired Bond, Romance, Vesper Not Dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5061364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesperata/pseuds/Vesperata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goes on ten years after the events of Casino Royale that lead to the end of Bond and Vesper's romance. "Against all odds his beloved was right here next to him and the loneliness was no more...". Bond is retired and a family man, but is that all he'll ever be?</p><p>Already re-established Bond/Vesper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 10 years Later

The sound of the cartoons in the background were all she could hear besides the occasional laughter or sound of toys falling and crashing. As she sat on her desk, locked away in her study for the fourth hour straight, her back ached and the side of her head throbbed from the stress and the intense glare of the computer screen before her. She sighed and leaned back onto the softness of the leather and played with the pages of her post-it pad. Among some forgotten phone numbers and note-to-selfs, there were little drawings and scribbles from her daughter. She smiled.

Every ten or so minutes Heloise would purposefully pass by her door pretending to head to the bathroom or the bedrooms... She knew better. It was a perfectly fine Saturday evening and they were both locked up in this apartment. It was mid-October and the leaves were reddened and bountiful on the ground. Her favorite season... probably because there was always the promise of rebirth in spring. Rebirth was a thing she'd grown good at.

Heloise had been born on a rainy spring day, tiny, premature and sent straight to the neo-natal intensive care unit. They had practically lived in the hospital for two months, but it had been worth it. Four-years-old and she was the brightest, healthiest little girl. She also had the tendency to fifty per cent of the time drive her mum mad. But a mother's love was a funny, limitless thing...

…

They sat by the window at the back of the café, having just left the theatre across the street. Heloise drew on the paper tablecloth as she on the other hand people-watched, deep in her thoughts. At the corner of her eyes she spotted the silver flash of his car and smiled slightly to herself. It had taken her almost two years to woo him with that tremendous ego of his. Another worthy sacrifice as she'd never felt so... content. It felt good to be loved and to make love. It felt good to have a home and something that resembled a family. It felt good to have James again. It was good to have her life.

…

She sat between his legs on the bed, back leaning on his chest and her head buried in the curve of his neck. He smelled of scotch, leather and something spicy, yet fresh. She couldn't name it, the scent, but it made her feel warm and utterly attracted to him. He was half-asleep, just arriving from Honduras, a relatively smooth mission, but that had left a deep and painful gash on his right leg. He'd kissed Heloise as he always did at the café, tickling her on the side and sat across from her mother without so much as a kiss or touch. He wasn't too keen on publicizing their affair, especially in front of the child—but in bed, at night, they made up for all of those agonizing hours of distance.

"You're awfully quiet today... not even judgy." He mumbled, caressing her arm and dotting her shoulder with light kisses.

"I'm tired, worked on the progress reports all day and the house was a mess..." She sighed. It was difficult having to do it all alone most of the time. These were the woes of being deeply in love with an agent, the woes of a supposedly single, working mother. The never-ending worry and stress. She worried he wouldn't return home one day.

Heloise would ask about his scars... Especially the perfectly round one right on his heart. She counted. He always would tell it was a birth mark, but the little girl knew better. Every month James showed up with some new, even if minor injury. A scratch, a scraped elbow, a split lip or a purple bruise on his side.

"My James works on a quidditch field." The little one would always say.

They laughed because it would be interesting to fight terrorists perched on brooms. Deep down they were both always afraid, praying to someone, something out there to protect him. Them. They were both orphans and they wouldn't allow for Heloise to suffer without her mother or her James. He loved the little girl—and she wasn't even his. She saw it in his violet-blue eyes. She loved him even more for it. Heloise had chosen him, there was no other explanation for it.

"They want me to begin thinking of retirement. Apparently no double-o has ever survived passed his fifties..." His voice trailed off unemotionally.

"Do you want to?"

"There's nothing else I know how to do. And there's you and the girl..." He trailed off, staring off at the wall instead of facing her questioning gaze.

"I'm sure your retirement will be generous..." She sat up facing him and held his chin so he'd look at her. "But that's not what bothers you."

"Of course I'll miss it. The adrenaline, the lack of a routine... feeling useful." She nodded in understanding.

"I see. It's your decision James..."

"Except it's not anymore, Vesper. It's ours... and their's."

"You know how I feel about your mission, the constant risks to your life and the consequences it can bring to all three of us—but I want you to be happy and not feel like any of this is a duty. I want you to know you always have a choice." He was silent, just staring into her eyes for a long moment, until she pulled him into her arms and let him be comforted on her shoulder. She loved how his armour was off again. Hers was too.

…

As they lay in the dark, neither one actually sleeping, they heard the door softly open and the light from the hall invade the room. A small little thing quickly made her way onto the bed in between them. Turning towards the much older man she tapped his shoulder gently. She smelled of lavender and was all dark curls, softness and baby powder. He pretended to be asleep.

"James?" She whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Happy father's day."

"It was in June..." He retorted, half-asleep.

"You're my dad everyday. Deal?"

"Deal." Was the reply as he wrapped his arm around her little frame and already knew what his decision would be.

…

He had to admit he was tired. He had to admit that he had reasons to stay at home. Bond was no longer lonely, depending only on Her Majesty's secret service to feel needed and belonging to something. He had Heloise and he had Vesper—the mysterious, alluring, loving one who had returned from the dead. Their relationship was a peculiar one.

Wives and husbands were always known to live in love/hate situations. He and Vesper lived in love. The hate had stayed in the past, along with those feelings of betrayal, disbelief and anger—It was a huge waste of time. It had taken them two years to reconcile. He had been resistant, with reason, to fall into her web again. She was different than the Vesper he'd met eight years ago... Sometimes he did not recognize her. Vesper's clothes were different, her manneurisms had changed. That mischievous glimmer in her eyes had disappeared. She was a mother and her hair wasn't always so impeccable.

The Vesper he knew and was with now was perhaps more compatible to him, but at the same time they clashed in any ways. She had that elegant, bourgeois way about her and he was just a Scottish gruff. She played the piano and cooked things life boeuf bourguignon. He knew just about everything of weapons, self-defense and football. She loved Russian literature and devoured Garcia Marquez and Isabel Allende's books. He read the newspaper and books about birds just because they were a great distraction from the everyday violence. Vesper had even presented him with a book by an ornithologist of the same name as he.

She had her reasons for having stayed away so long and everyday his understanding of the anguish and the guilt she still felt heightened. He should've always known that evening stars are relentless little things. They don't seem present during the day and sometimes you forget about them as the Earth orbits around the sun, time passes and people tend to ilude themselves. At night the stars always return. Sparkly, distant, contrasting in the dark horizon. You see them and then you don't feel so alone anymore. Against all odds his star was right here next to him. Against all odds she'd survived in Venice and returned to London to be with him. She loved him and he loved her too.

The next morning he called M.


	2. Chapter 2

Vesper sat on the table, head resting on her forearm, watching him as he adventured himself into the kitchen, constantly asking her where each item was. She would laugh and tease him and he would scowl, but tease her back. She looked particularly enticing tonight—red lipstick and all. He already made plans in his head, to ravish her in the bedroom later tonight.

"Where's the black pepper?"

"On the shelf next to the stove with all the other seasonings—I do hope this turns out good, I'm about to call and order some Chinese..."

"For such an elegant and sophisticated woman you sure eat a lot of rubbish." He replied and she bobbed her head mocking him—still, though, Vesper loved hearing compliments, especially from him—they didn't escape him too often—her old Scottish gruff.

"Elegant and rich sophisticated women have a battalion of cooks and cleaners for them." She said and then rambled on: "All very futile. I went to college with a woman called Valerie, her father was a banker and her mother a heiress of sorts—she knew how to do just about nothing. What's the point of having all of that, when in the end you're incapable of even caring for yourself? Valerie couldn't make her bed to save her life."

"And what made you different?"

"I was never rich for one, more like the penniless granddaughter of an old bankrupt French count whose mother killed herself and whose dad ran off with a pretty, blonde thing and pockets full of the only money left." Vesper ran her hands through her long dark hair, as she always did when anxious and continued:

"I'm not that better, mind you—I too have my frivolities, but early off I had to fend for myself, make sure there was food to eat, that the house was tidy—I had no one to punish me or send me to bed on time, ask how things were going in school. I raised myself James and that's the main difference between all of those other women and I. I worked hard to earn all that I have today."

James nodded. It wasn't always that she'd willingly share with him aspects of her early life. Nor did he for that matter. Vesper's life was divided by before Venice and after Venice—much like his own.

"Did you always want to be an accountant?" He asked a while later wearing a smug grin.

Vesper smiled knowingly. James would always, always tease her for having such a dull job, when he had the most exciting one ever.

"No. No, I wanted to be an Egyptologist... Ever since I first went to Egypt at age seven with my mother."

"Where'd that go wrong?" He asked surprised, pulling out a chair and sitting in front of her. Vesper smiled slightly.

"I began working at a bookshop, doing the numbers. One thing led to the other and I ended up in business school rather than in the History department of Oxford University. I guess I was a bit of a coward, afraid I wouldn't succeed. Also, the numbers became a sort of consolation—they're exact and never-changing. My life was such madness... I wanted stability. Or the illusion of it."

James nodded and patted her shoulder.

"All right, Cleopatra, it's your turn now... Go do the dishes." Vesper groaned and got up from her chair. Before she walked past him into the kitchen, he grabbed hold of her left hand and kissed it.

…

That night after dinner, James tucked Heloise in bed and read her Asterix and Obelix in French. Vesper was always insisting they maintained as best as they could the French language in their home, since their family wouldn't be relocating to Paris anytime soon. So he read to the little girl as best as he could to impress her and she would point out to him whenever he pronounced anything wrong. God forbid that Vesper would see and tease him about it… The little sexy minx.

"Dad?"

"Yes, little bird?" He would call her just as his mother used to call him. It seemed right since now he had been upgraded to father status.

"Your French isn't very good, but I think it's enough for us to go visit mum's grandpère in Paris."

"Do you miss him?" Heloise shook her head, she wasn't kidding.

"No, but I had a dream with him—he's not doing very well." James nodded.

"We can call to check in tomorrow, now it's late and he's probably asleep." Heloise nodded and James leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. "Goodnight, love."

"G'night, dad."

…

Vesper left early in the morning for work, she had an important presentation and a meeting with her boss afterwards. For a few months now she'd been striving for the post of treasurer-in-chief of wherever it was she worked. James knew nothing of accountancy and job posts and if it weren't for Vesper, would care even less. They didn't need the money or the security, but it seemed she was the one who needed it for her own self-esteem, as a professional. And so he supported her as best as he could manage.

He prepared Heloise for school and walked her there himself every single day. It wasn't so bad—just a bit odd to be the only man around all of those trophy wives and mothers. He knew they whispered about them, him and Vesper—how she was a workaholic and forced him to take care of the child. He always fought the urge to tell them he wasn't forced to anything. In fact, he never imagined that he would take so much pleasure in simply being there for his little bird—his father had never been around much for him, not even before his death. And James knew how that sort of thing hurt. And he also knew how much Vesper hurt for not always being present.

…

It was Bond's second week as a retired agent, but still felt like compulsory vacations. There had been a special farewell dinner including Mallory and his closest co-workers. Vesper refused to go, still stigmatized by her past as a double-agent. She was the only one punishing herself, James had pointed out at the time. He did however prefer to let it go, if it was still painful to Vesper, better leave it.

He'd began frequenting the gym so he wouldn't become so weak and lazy which was very unmanly in his point-of-view. After gym he would run errands, pay the bills, go shopping for the house and wander around the city, until it was time again to fetch Heloise from school and go home. The days passed by slowly, but the nights at their apartment were mostly eventful. Not just the sex which was also very good, but now he found he loved movies and would insist on watching one with Vesper at least once a weak. Oh, and they were absolutely addicted to watching Friends re-runs on Netflix. He couldn't believe he had missed out on it all these years. Vesper was such a Monica.

On the film nights, Vesper would complain that it was all a huge waste of time, but she did look forward to the old Hollywood films, especially the ones with Liz Taylor and Katharine Hepburn. Bond on the other hand felt like a young boy all over again, watching cowboy films that bore Vesper to death and commenting exclusively on the poor choice in firearms and ammunition. Also the aims were all wrong... He loved space films and shared with her on a particularly warm summer night that he would've loved to be an astronaut.

"Yet you became a naval commander slash secret agent?" James shrugged.

"As the philosopher Jagger once said, you can't always get what you want." Vesper would smile and say nothing.

James didn't comment, but he was quite positive she had no idea what or who Jagger was. On the other hand she knew just about everything of classical music and opera. Apparently her favorites were the Great Russian composers and her opera tastes usually favored the Italian repertoire—Aïda, Norma, La Traviata... Vesper was amusingly the biggest fan of a dead woman he'd ever met.

"If we ever have another daughter, I don't care what you say, we're not naming her Maria Callas or Callas or Maria." Vesper would glare at him, "You lost your shot with Heloise."

"James, I named her after my mum!" James shrugged her remarks off and Vesper would turn on her side in bed and ignore him for the rest of the night.

…

"Do you think this means we want a second child?" He inquired the following morning as she was still half-asleep.

"James, it's six in the bloody morning!" She cursed him with a string of French swear words and then sighed. Turning to face him with an utmost serious expression, Vesper said: "If you agree to carry the baby for nine months, sure." And he would feel completely emasculated and mortified.

Blue eyes bright and full of humor, Vesper's solemn facade melt away and she she giggle until her cheeks turned a deep crimson—all at the expense of her lover's expression of pure horror. He glared at her as intensely as he could.

Finally, she added, "Male pregnancy is a thing now, my love, just ask Google." Another thing she taunted him with—his lack of knowledge with computers and the likes.

James frowned at her constant teasing and went straight for the shower.


	3. Chapter 3

He watched as her face changed from anxiety, to fear, to regret and then to pain. As she slowly put down the phone, her face pale and eyes watery, he was certain something serious had happened.

"What is it?"

She didn't answer. Vesper's lips trembled from so much emotion; her attempts to speak came out as sobs—of hurt, of confusion, of disbelief and soon she even shed some tears. Vesper rarely cried and James hated seeing her this way… Soon the memories of that night in the bathroom—under the shower—at Hotel Splendide all those years ago—it all came rushing in.

Vesper slowly sat on the far corner of their sofa with her head in her hands. They were shaking profusely. He walked inside the kitchen and quickly put on some tea in the electric kettle. Things of the past always took longer nights—longer time and more effort to get over. Four minutes and he was pouring chamomile tea in her favorite red mug. It took him another minute to get to her. It had slowly gotten dark and he turned on the lights.

"Here, drink. It'll help you calm down." Vesper looked up, extending her hands to accept it, failing in giving him a reassuring smile. He sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. As she sipped her tea, his hand caressed her cold arm up and down, comforting, lovingly. She loved him—could no longer live without him.

"We should've called earlier, when Heloise had asked us to. It's too late James, my grandfather is dead. He's dead," she sighed and took a sip of her drink. "I didn't even get to tell him how much I despised him, how much of a burden he was to me growing up. Ask him why he never liked me, supported me, why he was never a loving grandfather. Is it possible to hate and crave someone's love so intensely?"

"Yes—that just sums up what I felt for you." Vesper made a face and looked up to meet his blue gaze.

"Well that's different, you thought I was dead."

"Well, even before that." She stared at him with a look of pure astonishment and for a moment there he thought her moods would swing and she'd go crazy like women usually do. But Vesper simply stared down at the mug in her hands and soon her shoulders shook—not out of sadness, but because she was laughing. She laughed so hard that she even… snorted and with that, he couldn't help but grin in that mischievous and boyish way of his.

"You snorted."

" _Stop_ —I was crying it was an accident."

"You snorted and you're not going to live a day without me reminding you." She smiled, but tried to hide it by biting her lips. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were swollen. This was what made her different from all of the other women in the world—she was real, she was natural—with her he didn't have to where his armor, he didn't have to pretend. With him she was herself—carefree as best as she could, being a perfectionist Virgo and all. God, she was a mess in looks, but there was no sexier woman on the face of the Earth.

"Yeah well, that face you made. You'd think a grown man, a former MI6 agent would be less afraid of a woman's glare."

"Not of any woman's darling, just yours." She arched a brow. "You'll never know why."

" _Hmph_. I'll need to go to Paris for this. I need to tend to his funeral—and the family affairs. Not that there is any family aside from us left." James said nothing, simply nodded and pulled her further into his arms, cocooning her within his arms. She smelled so good, her skin was so soft… He placed a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder and another in that special spot below her ear.

Inside she was still hurting, but this wonderful man whom she loved—he helped to make things just a little bit better. And how grateful Vesper was, for life having brought them back together.

…

James carried Heloise as they both waved off Vesper, dressed head-to-toe in black, who after kissing them both, crossed the glass barrier to wait for her plane. She'd be gone a week. And he was alone with her daughter for just that long— _seven days_. This was certainly a novelty.

…

The first day had gone normally, once they arrived from the airport, Heloise went straight for the television to watch  _Peppa Pig_ , while he prepared them some turkey sandwiches and salad for lunch. Afterwards she had her nap on the sofa and he managed to get the kitchen and the living area clean and tidy. Not too long after, James took his time in the shower while she played in the improvised cabana he had built her in her bedroom and in no time they were off to the park for the rest of the afternoon.

Stella was at the park. Stella was a good friend of James by now—probably because he was always at the park these days, jogging, watching Heloise play, shortcutting from the apartment to the shops and bank. He was still behind on the whole internet banking thing and he found that walking around the neighborhood could be a rather pleasing thing.

"Hello James and Heloise!" She greeted with a kind smile. Behind her, Violet and Charlie, her children played.

"Hi, Mrs. Stella!" And that was all she got from Heloise as the girl ran off to meet her friends.

"Well you look awfully tired..." Stella pointed out as the two adults sat on the park bench.

"The mum's away, her grandfather died." He explained and Stella nodded.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are things all right?" James nodded, looking straight ahead. He barely ever looked away from where his little bird was—heaven forbid anything ever happen to her... With the life he had, his precious daughter could be an easy target for his enemies. "Walter and I broke-up." This caught James' attention.

"God, Stella, took you long enough. I told you before, that arsehole didn't deserve you. I still cannot believe you let him and his family of lunatics torment you for so long..."

"Well, hope is the last that dies, James. I guess it took me time to realize that the hope that matters wasn't the hope of him changing and defending me for once, but hope in myself. I left my home, my parents in Canada. I quit my job to dedicate myself to him and our children—I mean, when can I do something for myself for once?"

"And?"

"I start work at a publicity company next week." She had a broad smile on her lips.

"Ha, Heloise's mum will love to hear that." He couldn't help but smile. With time Stella had become almost the younger sister he and Vesper never had… He was happy for her. "And the children stay with you?"

"For the time being. Walter's convinced he can win custody over me on trial..."

"He won't, because the children know what they want and they want their mother." Stella nodded. Her brown eyes were still sad though. She didn't look too good—more like she hadn't slept all week. "Listen, if you need anything-"

"I'm pregnant." Stella blurted out, interrupting James and staggering him for a split second.

"It's Walter's?" Stella shook her head.

"I took a few liberties with his cousin." James arched a brow in surprise. "I don't know what to do. I can't have another baby when I'm just getting back into the market! Besides, this'll totally go against me in court and-"

"I think you should talk this out with a woman." Stella stared at him blankly for a moment. He was red and strange—uncomfortable beyond words. She didn't know if she laughed or cried at his sudden stiffness. But he did care… He'd come a long way that James—from a totally rigid and detached man, to a person who actually took the time to sit down and talk and sometimes even laugh or smile. "You're so fucking strange..." James ignored the woman, stunned really, as the news sunk in and just sat there in silence watching as the children played in the distance.

…

"So Stella's pregnant? James Bond, who knew you to be a girl-talker? I think there's a repressed gay man inside of you!" James huffed in annoyance at Vesper's teasing over the phone. "Stop that! It's bad enough that you're not here..." There was a long moment of silence. He heard shuffling on the other side.

"We buried him this morning. Tomorrow after lunch we'll be meeting with the lawyer and personal accountant to read the will-"

"We? Who else will be there?"

"Oh, I don't know, James, my father who I haven't seen in over thirty years and his wife made of plastic." James flinched at the venom in her words. He could tell it would not be an easy day for ol' Vincent Lynd tomorrow.

"Do you need-" Vesper interrupted him.

"No, no. You stay there with Heloise, this is no environment for a child. If anything happens you'll be the first to know."

" _Hm_. And how do you feel?"


	4. Chapter 4

They sat in the library of the house she'd grown up in. It was hard to believe that the calculated and heavy steps of her grandfather no longer echoed through the house. It was hard to believe that she could now, at the tip of her toes, reach the top shelf of the tall cupboard—it was hard to believe that he sat there, across from her on the round wooden table—her father, who so long ago had died to her.

"You're such a beautiful grown woman now…" He said to her, before the attorney and her grandfather's personal accountant arrived. It was nearly 11 o'clock and his wife must be upstairs, enjoying her beauty sleep. And down here Vesper fought the urge to strangle him and his cynical ways.

"Yes, well it's sort of what happens when thirty years pass you by." He frowned at her passive-aggressive attack and sighed heavily.

"Well—you're stubborn just as your grandfather was, I'll give you that, kid—I honestly don't expect you to hug me and call me papa—but now that we are here, face to face after so long, I would most definitely like to at least become friends with you… Life is too short Vesper, too short. Look at what happened to  _grandpère_."

She didn't waste her time trying to formulate an answer to him—no, she did not want to be friends with the likes of him.  _God_ , he couldn't even pronounce her name!

"I hear you have a little girl—how old is she, what's her name?"

" _Heloise._ " Vesper looked straight into his eyes as she said it, knowing it would be a kick to the guts. Despite of all their attempts to erase from her the memories of her poor and tormented mother and to convince her that Heloise Lynd had been a horrible person, selfish even, who took her life… Vesper's mother had simply been their victim—just as Vesper herself had been. She watched with an almost sadistic pleasure as his eyes widened and her sad excuse of a father couldn't hide both his disappointment and pain.

"I see—what a  _lovely name_. How old is she?" Vesper stared up at him in the utmost displeasure, through her long dark lashes. She hated small talk—she hated how he was trying to pass off as a caring person—he wasn't.

"She's five years old." He asked to see a photograph but Vesper ignored him—for a whole fifteen minutes—a lifetime—until their expected and tardy visitors arrived. She was rather proud of herself.

…

She arrived home that evening exhausted. She kicked off her heals that seemed to be digging knives into her flesh off and unzipped her black dress. It was just past three in the morning. Vesper grabbed a glass of water from the fridge and made her way to the bedroom. James was there, Heloise fast asleep on top of him, in a way that he couldn't move. She smiled and blew him a kiss. His intense blue gaze followed her around the room, as she brushed her teeth, combed her hair and put on her silk blue sleeping gown.

Vesper lay down next to them on the bed and turned to face him, caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers. She placed a gentle kiss to his lips and tried to smile—she'd been completely drained of her energy and honestly, the entire week had been a hell of a roller-coaster.

"Hey—everything turned out fine—didn't it?" She nodded. With his free hand, he took hold of hers and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm glad you're home and alive." She smiled at this. Usually it was she who would pronounce those ridiculous words, whenever he would walk inside the door from a mission.

"I love you so much James…" She whispered. His eyes met hers, full of love.

"'Love you too Ms. Broadchester…" She smiled widely and let out a silent laugh, fighting the urge to smack him.

"How is our little dare devil?" He chuckled.

"Heavy." She smiled and cuddled into his arms, turning off the lamp beside her.

…

The following morning they were up early and packing snacks into a thermal bag. When they had become such clichéd parental fools was beyond James, but today they would visit the countryside—a castle ruin with a lovely field of poppies. They would enjoy the sun and he and Vesper would roll around in the grass, under the shade of a large tree, while Heloise would play faerie princess in the fields with little Violet and Charlie, who they had invited last minute to make her company and distract her from her parents' more interesting activities.

"Don't forget the wine and the glasses, James!" Vesper told him as she headed to answer the door—no doubt it was Stella across the threshold with her two children all packed and ready for the day.

But as James called after his lady and didn't hear a response, he was astonished to see not Stella at the door, but Eve Moneypenny herself. That sure as hell meant that they could cancel all plans for the day—something was seriously and terribly wrong.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Vesper walked as quick as she could in elegant and very high heels, as she carried her crying daughter, Heloise's limbs wrapped tightly around her neck, where the little girl buried her head into her mother's dark and flowing hair and bound her legs around Ms. Lynd's waist. It was cold and gray outside and heavy drops of rain fell over their heads, dampening their hair and clothes. By now Vesper's shows were entirely drenched. She spotted the wide glass doors of her new place of employment and took a larger step towards it, pushing it forward. As they entered the large, sleekly decorated lobby of the building, Vesper reached inside of her pocket, for her employee name tag, almost shoving it in the receptionist's face. Without much of a word exchanged, Vesper pressed her thumb to the tiny biometrics scan and after a beep, was allowed passage._

_Once again Vesper nearly ran with her child towards the line of elevators, mentally cursing her tactlessness and clumsiness. She pressed the lift buttons furiously and repeatedly—she couldn't believe what she had just done. As the heavy doors closed on them she could finally exhale—Heloise's sobs diminishing against her ear, until all the child did was shake with silent, tearless sobs._

_"_ _Hush now Heloise, please. I'll take you there some other time, all right. It's just—it wasn't safe." Vesper tried to calm her daughter down by rubbing her back and caressing her dark curls of hair—to no use. Heloise's cries grew in intensity again and by now Vesper's head throbbed with pain, due to all of the stress, to the cold rain that had hit her coatless skin and due to the fact that after so many years she had finally stood before him again—their eyes had locked after so very long. She had never experienced something so bloody intense—the contradictory and intertwining feeling of fear, love and regret._

_And God was she stupid, because the minute the doors to her elevator came open on the 14_ _th_ _floor where her office was located, there he stood, icy gaze and deep frown scrutinizing her—and all of the sudden Vesper Lynd or Vivian Reid or whatever they'd decided to call her now, went weak on the knees. And her voice simply and miserably failed her._

_"_ _You were supposed to be dead, Vesper Lynd."_

_…_

Vesper shook off the terrible memory as they sat on the backseat of a black governmental vehicle, with bullet proof windows and doors. Heloise had fallen asleep between the two of them. She glanced at James who simply and wordlessly stared out the window. To there surprise, as they'd entered the car, Gareth Mallory—M—himself had been behind the wheel. Moneypenny hadn't stopped typing erratically from her phone during the entire journey out of London. The silence and suspense of what the hell was happening—it was suffocating.

…

In a matter of two hours, they arrived at a non-descript roadside bed and breakfast where a gray haired lady, walking around with a cane dressed in floral and pink clothing came to greet them with a large smile. Behind her was an exasperated looking gentleman, no older than thirty and with green eyes like emeralds.

"Welcome to the Evening Star Bed and Breakfast—I'm Cecilia Browning, but you lot can call me Cissy… especially the little one." Heloise giggled as the lady tickled her belly and tried to hide herself behind her mother's legs. "This one here is Andrew, my assistant. Andrew, darling, could you be so kind as to show our lovely guests to their respective bedrooms? I'm afraid my tea time is long overdue."

"Thank you, Madame." Mallory said, entering his assigned bedroom. Once Andrew showed everyone around, Moneypenny assembled James and Vesper in her bedroom—Heloise remained in the bedroom watching her cartoons.

"Eve—what in the bloody hell is going on?" James questioned, already in a bad mood. Eve Moneypenny sighed exasperatedly and pulled a manila envelope out of her handbag, handing it over to Vesper.

"See for yourself, Ms. Lynd…" Vesper opened the envelope not knowing what to expect—a loose thread from Quantum and the men who had basically ruined her life? Or someone after James, perhaps due to a vendetta? She hoped it wasn't as serious as this hasty departure of theirs from London had seemed.

As she pulled out the contents of the envelope, the first thing Vesper saw was a large photograph of her own father staring back at her with those steely blue eyes. She couldn't help but be completely stunned as she tried to find some sense in the report papers.

"Eve, I'm sorry, but I simply don't understand… What does my father have to do with this new organization—God, all he ever did was sit around and spend away all of my family's money! How could  _this_  be?"

"Vesper—your father's evolvement in Spectre, goes back decades. In fact, it's quite possible that he married your mother as part of a scheme." Vesper's brows furrowed in confusion and Moneypenny took the woman's soft hands into her own. "It's—Ms. Lynd, your mother's death was most certainly not a suicide as the French police had informed your family. It was staged quite possibly at your father's command. Your mother, Heloise, and this might come as a surprise to you—she was with the French intelligence agency's equivalent of an 'M'." Vesper sat on the edge of Eve's bed, paralyzed. Moneypenny handed James all of the papers so that he could take a look.

" _No!_  No, Eve, my mother was a simple translator." Vesper shook her head and ran her fingers erratically through her long dark hair. It was all too difficult for the blue-eyed accountant to grasp. Everything Vesper had always thought she had known about the woman who gave her life was a lie. Could it be that this was all her life was, a gigantic mess of consecutive deceits and conspiracies?

Moneypenny handed Bond yet another dossier—the entire file from Heloise Lynd's death investigation—photographs of her hanging on the cord in her hotel room, her autopsy report, pictures of her from days before her death, copies of personal documents, certificates and newspaper columns… It even contained pictures of Vesper—only a little girl then, spending time with her mother at a café—a gray scale and poor quality portrait of a moment of which Vesper had no recollection.

"Moneypenny, what does Vesper have to do with any of this? Why did we have to rush out of London?" M's assistant was about to explain to the former 007, when Gareth Mallory entered the room without bothering to knock.

"Ms. Lynd's father was caught by the French Intelligence Agency and questioned last night—precisely when she was on her way back to London. He confessed and revealed crucial information—names, contacts, the likes—they seek revenge Ms. Lynd, once again all the eyes are on you. And since blood is thicker than water, it's yourself and your daughter they target for murder. Your father was put in a witness protection program, although it is unclear how long he'll be able to stay unfound."

"Simple revenge—that is all?" Bond was fuming with anger and all Vesper could do was stare at her last photo with her mother, in her hands, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Not all—before she died, Heloise Lynd hid secret documents on this organization and the people involved. Of course over thirty years have passed, but a lot of those men and women are still alive and free. If we can get our hands on your mother's evidence it could help us to lock up and put to trial hundreds of people and dismember the highest ranking members of this terrorist corporation."

"And how on Earth can I help you with that—I was seven years old…"

"But you still remember that trip with your mother to Egypt don't you?"

"Every minute of it." M nodded, he seemed rather pleased.

"Because that Ms. Lynd, is where you are going to both hide and find these documents. Our Quartermaster should be here at any moment accompanied by agent Tanner with the proper equipment you shall need. For the rest of the night, I suggest we all rest and prepare for the battle ahead."

"Eve, is it all right if I take these with me, to read at night?" Moneypenny nodded, her brown eyes full of pity. Vesper hated it, the way they already treated her—fragile like a piece of china.

…

"Now you know how I felt." James told her as they lay in the darkness of their assigned bedroom, holding each other. There were no more tears of Vesper's to be shed.

"What if we don't succeed—what if they get to us, to Heloise? James, I'm not sure I would be able to live without my daughter. Why does everything in our lives have to be so bloody complicated?"

Bond pulled her closer affectionately and caressed her arm, up and down.

"It wouldn't be our lives if it weren't. You sleep now, love." He kissed the top of her head and sighed.

He too could no longer live without Vesper or Heloise. This was the mission of James Bond's life.


End file.
